


Better

by RookBishop



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Other, general sappy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RookBishop/pseuds/RookBishop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's better this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> Been hitting a rut lately, but here's some love for the old man!

            He had sought you out to mend him back up again. The two of you had made your way back to his room with an arm full of bandages and sterilizers. He always did this, seeking you out instead of Mercy. You’ve asked him why before, and he only mumbles how she was too mouthy and nags him for his injuries while you would only patch him up with relative silence.

            Though the times where you did break the silence, you would talk at a mile an hour. He doesn’t mind it, but he doesn’t make the effort to return the gesture, making it a very one-sided conversation every time this happens.

            Today, you brought up the past.

            “Remember when I first joined Overwatch? All bright eyed and ready to change the world?” you laughed, looking up at him as you poured a few drops of alcohol onto a cotton pad. You watch his eyes look anywhere but yours, even turning his head to the side to make do so. You hum an apology when he flinches at the contact of rubbing alcohol and open cuts, recoiling only slightly with a quiet hiss.

            “When I was still a snot-nosed kid that only ever looked up to you?” you continued, now watching yourself around his injuries, not wanting to hurt him any more than you needed to. You stay quiet, focusing so intently on cleaning his wounds, tossing aside the used materials as you worked from one injury to the another.

            "If the me from the past had seen you now, I’d probably be somewhat disappointed.” A small laugh escapes your lips. You feel him tense under your hands, but you continue,” Jack Morrison, the most courageous man I’ve ever known, doesn’t even have the guts to tell the medic that he’s cut up bad.”

            The room gets quiet.

            You fill the silence with your voice,” But things have changed now I guess. I’m just glad that you came out alive.”

            While the past you might’ve not appreciated the present Jack, you certainly did now. How you appreciated him more than looking up to him now. How, embarrassingly enough to admit, you had use to hold him up on a podium and idolized him. How things would slowly change as time goes on, and you started to see him less of an idol and more of someone special. How you realized how compassionate and sweet he was when you had gotten the chance to work directly with him. How you two would sometimes exchange glances with shy smiles. How you two would purposefully brush fingers when you two reached for the same thing. How you two would accompany each other when you needed it the most. How you two would wrestle under the sheets, trying to get the other to settle down before sleep took over. How you two would kiss when you were sure that no one was looking. How you two would touch foreheads when you both returned from a mission relatively unscathed.

            You finished up faster than you thought you would, snapping yourself out of your thoughts when you tuck in the last of the bandages with a heavy sigh.

            “Sorry for ruining the mood. The past is the past, and the Fall and Recall have changed us for the better or worse.” You smiled, even a child would know that it held no meaning. You waited for him stop you; to tell you that he wants you two to go back to where you were back then. To tell  you that he longed for you and that he still cared for you in that way.

            But he doesn’t.

            He mumbled a gruff ‘Thanks’ and watched you leave his room, throwing away the scraps into his bio-hazard bin.

            “Stay safe, alright? As much as I like spending time with you, this isn't really how I want to do it.” You laughed bitterly, making your way to his door, lingering for anything to stop you some leaving. When the room stays quiet, you close the door behind you with a soft thud.

            He watches you leave and the door close. He hears your loaded sigh and your body slide down along the door. He hears your choked cries, trying your best to make it quiet, but Jack knows better.

            He waits in silence.

            He waits till he hears shuffles. Then footsteps as it gets further and further away. He waits till he knows that he was entirely composed from the internal turmoil within his head.

            “It’s better this way.” With white knuckles, he reassures to no one but himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops re-edited some stuff cause I posted this when I was running on fumes lmao.


End file.
